A Long Road
by minni
Summary: Sequel to "No Longer".  Six years after they said goodbye, Minerva McGonagall's and Albus Dumbledore's paths cross again.
1. A Meeting

Author's Note: Not my characters and they never will be.

**A Long Road**

Chapter 1: A Meeting

She looked out onto the grounds. Everything was still green, even though the frost had begun setting in early. It was only just September.

There were even some sunflowers left, explosive and vibrant in the moonlight. It was as if they could light the grounds with their yellow heads, lead the way out. All of the sunflowers should have died long ago and gone to seed. She sighed: the wonders of magic.

Minerva McGonagall couldn't remember why she agreed to come. It wasn't that she had a date, though she did. It wasn't that Frederick was a difficult man to say no to or that he had been interested in her for months, no. It wasn't even that she felt sorry for him. It was, she supposed, so that she could look and feel pretty again. And she did.

With some smart new green robes and her hair up in an intricate bun, she felt beautiful for the first time in a long time. And tall. She couldn't forget about feeling tall. Almost as tall as the sunflowers—well, perhaps not quite that tall. The woman smiled to herself, knowing that her lips were the color of a rose. Yes, beautiful she was.

To the left of her, she heard someone tall walk across the balcony. He stood close, but not too close. The man smelled of good cologne, applied in just the right amount. It was nice, she thought, of him to wear a hat; people seldom did that anymore. He did not look at her directly and she did not look at him.

"I'm surprised that there aren't more people out here, where the air is," the stranger said.

The woman smiled. It was a thought that she certainly had already had; the balcony was remarkably empty. She liked it better that way. "I'm sure they're all enjoying themselves inside. It sounds like a rather social party."

She heard the man lean over towards her, almost felt his breath on her skin; her defenses led her to turn and face him. Minerva's knees gave and she leaned, hard, on the edge. She exhaled gently, "Professor Dumbledore?"

He was just as surprised to see her. He swallowed, as if her were afraid. But his voice was just as gentle and strong as it ever was, "I thought it was you."

"Me?" she breathed. Suddenly she felt so very stupid. She should have been ready for this. It was only a matter of time before she ran into him. A six year run really wasn't that long.

"How are you?"

Minerva gave out a short, awkward laugh. Her heart sped up at the thought of the situation before her. "I'm doing well. Quite well, really."

"I see you've gotten yourself published."

"Yes. Mmm," she swallowed. "I hope you didn't read the article in Transfiguration Today. They had me edit things to the point that it isn't my work anymore."

"I didn't. _Transfigurative Sciences_. Very well written. Very provocative," he smiled. He meant it sincerely, she knew that.

She nodded slowly. "Thank you. I," she stopped herself, "How have you been?"

He looked at her with his brilliant blue eyes. They hadn't changed, thank Merlin.

Albus took off his hat, revealing his handsome red hair. "I can't complain, really. I'm still at Hogwarts, of course. Professor Dippit is leaving us after this year, so naturally there's plenty to do to prepare for that. The interview process has already begun. And of course the school year only just started. To be honest, I almost didn't come here tonight, I'm so busy."

"Are you glad you did?" she shrugged.

The man shrugged back, "I'm not sure yet. I would be a liar if I didn't say that my evening just became much more fascinating with your appearance."

Minerva knew her face was blushing, for she felt her cheeks grow warm. The professor was always good at getting that reaction out of her. Perhaps that's why she never tried to contact him. Perhaps that's why she chose not to write him back. Even after that heartbreaking letter, she didn't write him back. But she told him that she wouldn't. Perhaps that absolved her from the guilt that she was feeling.

"I am nothing special," she smiled toothlessly, awkwardly.

"Nonsense. You're a prodigy. Your talent has always exceeded others and I daresay, it always will."

She raised an eyebrow, acknowledging that he was going a wee bit too far. "Of all the things I am, Professor, prodigy I am not."

The man cleared his throat loudly and moved back ever so slightly. He leaned against the balcony, allowing it to support both strong hands and elbows. "I would rather you not call me professor. You've gone on to the real world now; you're not confined by school to call me professor."

The woman wanted desperately to speak of it aloud, what was never really confessed to anyone. She desired, more than anything, to point out the fact that he had a certain disregard for the rules. That it was his fault. Of course, that would not end well for either of them. She knew that it was her fault, too. She also knew that talking about it was forbidden.

"I prefer calling you professor."

She blinked with full awareness of her long lashes and deep green eyes. His eyes were on her and she had no refuge from her old lover. In a sharp moment, she felt the memory of tears on her face, a seemingly endless river. And then the dryness. The air stung her eyes.

"I was Albus to you once."

Minerva didn't dare move her gaze away from his, though it stung. "Albus," the word slid off of her tongue like a favorite word, long since forgotten.

"Minerva! There you are!" a rich voice boomed from the entrance to the balcony. Minerva turned quickly to see her date, Frederick standing there, horrible goatee and all. He approached them with a smile, wrapping his arm around Minerva's shoulder when he came close enough to do so. She cringed at the touch of the man. "I've been looking for you everywhere! I turned to Winston and he claimed that you'd gone to the loo, but when you didn't come back, I went on a wild goose chase, I tell you! Tell me, Albus, have you been keeping her out here this whole time?"

The professor cleared his throat. "I assure you, I haven't been out her for very long. She's been hiding on her own accord, if she has been hiding at all."

"She's a minx, isn't she?" Frederick raised an eyebrow in the woman's direction. She began walking towards the party. Neither man followed her in; as she exited, she could hear them laughing.

Her first stop was the refreshments table, where the wine was kept. She needed a drink if she was going to make it through the evening; that much was clear. Between the idiot that she was there with and the man that broke her heart, she was in no state to face everyone completely sober. A glass of white would do her good.

She inhaled deeply before her first sip and then exhaled deeply afterward.

Minerva brought her hand to her face and felt the warmth on her cheeks. It was too hot inside; that's why she'd left in the first place. How was it that so many people could be two-stepping like that? Surely they were ready to keel over from all of that movement. In all fairness, they were probably having enough fun not to care.

The cold liquid trickled down her throat a second time. She blinked her unfocused eyes as she recalled the day she said goodbye to Albus. How strong she stood next to him! How high she held her head! And how unresponsive she was to him…

He wore blue that day. He always looked good in blue. It matched his eyes. Those eyes which once looked upon her with love. Even on that day, she saw it. And she knew that she saw it; it was not an after-thought. He loved her even then. What had been on her face?

She blinked. Pride. The pride always won. Always.

Minerva weighed the glass in her hand, running her fingers across the stem. It was cool, unlike the room. She put it against her cheeks, one at a time. She wished that it would help more, but it didn't. She couldn't stay inside and she couldn't go outside. Maybe she could just change into a cat and tip-toe her way out of the place. No one would notice. Except perhaps Albus, who she noticed was staring at her in the corner.

They stared at each other. It seemed like an eternity, but perhaps it was only a few seconds. Perhaps.

"Shall we dance?"

She looked to the side of her where Frederick was standing. Without so much as a response, he took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. And he more or less shoved her onto the dance floor, taking the liberty of putting his hands just a little bit lower than her waist. She had no option but to drift back into reality.

Her eyes rolled as he thrust her here and there in bouts of twirling and whirling and footing. He didn't speak while he danced, which was perhaps the only good part about it. Instead of getting a headache from his loud voice, she received a head rush from blood going from head to foot too quickly. This excursion felt like an eternity; it could not have been more than a song and a half—if she was lucky. After the first full bout, they stopped and clapped with the rest of them.

She touched her dizzy dizzy face and willed herself to make sense of it all. She heard Frederick say something, but with all the noise, she couldn't quite make it out. Before she knew it, a new set of hands touched her. Minerva blinked her eyes open.

"Albus," she whispered.

"Do you mind?" he answered back.

The woman clutched his hand tightly. "Not at all."

And so disappeared Frederick. Frederick and everyone else, it seemed. All she could focus on was the man before her. The man that she so desperately wanted to speak to, but couldn't. It wasn't that he couldn't understand—it was that he could. That terrified her the most.

"Thank you for saving me," she smiled gently at the man.

Albus nodded. "I take it that you are in fact not an item with Freddie?"

Minerva shook her head. "Absolutely not. He's vile. If I wasn't a nice person, I'd transfigure him into a…a…mosquito."

"Personally I'd go with a ladybug. That way he can't retaliate," he smiled.

She gave out a small giggle. "You have a point."

Then the music started. It was a slow, almost mournful song. Appropriate, perhaps, for the scene that was being set. He put his warm hand gently at the small of her back and squeezed gently on her delicate fingers. She had no need to pretend that she was the leader; Albus led beautifully.

They stared at each other. It occurred quite suddenly to Minerva that it could not be easy for him to speak to her in the way that he was. She had broken his heart, just as he had broken hers. Neither of them were blameless. They both were guilty.

"You're wearing blue," she whispered so no one but him could hear.

He nodded. She knew that there was some sort of understanding there, even before he responded with, "I was told once that it suits my eyes."

"It still does," she blinked.

"Thank you."

There was a pain inside of her chest right then. It was his smile that did it; his glorious, unhindered smile. It felt heavy, like a weight was on her rib cage. Minerva wanted to cry. Or hit something. She still wanted him, even after all of those tears.

"You're wearing green," he responded. "It matches your eyes."

A deep smile sunk into her rouged lips. "I just bought them, the robes. I treated myself to them for the occasion."

"I'm glad you did," he smiled as the music changed. "It suits you."

He spun her gently with the music, catching her with his open arms. She sunk into him for the smallest fraction of a second. He still used the same cologne. He felt just as warm as he ever did. She should have recognized him much earlier. She spun out and then returned back to holding one of his hands and putting her arm on his shoulder.

It seemed to her that their relationship had been like their dance: slow, sensual, and ultimately heartbreaking. Her throat caught at the idea. "So you're to replace Professor Dippit?"

Albus seemed to understand right off. Dippit was so much more than a man to them: he was the man that reminded them of reality, the one that put a stop to their affair. Quite rightly, maybe. But somehow, she thought not. And so Albus would be replacing him. "Yes," he nodded. "He has decided to retire and I am to inherit the duty of being headmaster of Hogwarts. It's what I've been working for, Minerva."

She nodded. Of course he had been working towards it. He was Albus Dumbledore, destined for great things. "Congratulations." She meant it sincerely, though it may not have sounded that way. She was too caught up considering what may have happened if there had been no Professor Dippit.

"Thank you," was his response.

There may as well have been silence for the next few minutes, for they seemed to stop dancing, stop moving, stop talking, though she could not be sure whether or not they really stopped moving. She heard nothing. All she did was see. See him. His eyes seemed to say so much more than his words or his hands. He was not thankful.

"Albus," she whispered, "can we…might we go on a walk?"

He nodded and took her hand in his. He led her. He always led her. And in a manner of seconds, she found herself outside, where it was cool, almost chilly. Sunflowers twice as tall as she was surrounded her as they went on a brick path together, her and Albus Dumbledore. He spoke gently to her as they walked, like the reserved man that he was, "I am sorry for everything that happened."

Minerva shook her head, "I would not ever take any of it back, Albus. Never."

The man turned his head to look at her inquisitively: "Wouldn't you?"

She shrugged. "For all of the terrible things that happened, I think I learned more about happiness than I have anywhere else. I think that's worth something. I think that I knew that it would end the way that it did from the very beginning. I just didn't want to face it, when the time came." She looked at his unquestioning face. "Thank you, Albus, for staying with me in the infirmary."

"How do you know I was there?"

The woman swallowed. How could she not know? "I felt it, like you feel things when someone else is in the room. And you were the only one that would be visiting secretly like that. I know you must have thought that it was all your fault."

His voice cracked just a little. She didn't dare look at him. "Wasn't it? I put you in that situation. I was the one that swore you to secrecy. I was the one that caused you to go out in the snow. You might have died."

"Albus," she swallowed down the memory, "I brought it upon myself, too. I went to my dormitory, after you said what you had to say. And I cried. And cried. I even set up a silencing charm so I wouldn't wake anyone else. And then Gwen saw me…so I had to leave, I suppose. Had to go somewhere else. So I did. I sat in a tree by the lake and watched snow fall until the sun came up. I was delirious. I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I was in the infirmary. And you were there."

"I was terrified," he whispered. "You could have killed yourself."

She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, "And you would have blamed yourself."

It was the truth. He would have. She knew it then, just as she knew it now. She wanted him to be in pain, back then. Her seventeen year-old self needed it to be so. If she died, it would have been due to a broken heart. Then the secret could have been revealed. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

"I would have," he nodded. "I never would have forgiven myself."

"Well," she gave a sad laugh, "lucky for you I have too much pride to die for a man, even one as famous as Albus Dumbledore."

Albus stopped walking. Minerva turned back to him. He looked at her seriously, like he would never say such a serious thing again. "I was so distraught, Minerva. You will never know the deep disgust I feel for myself for treating you that way. And then how you wouldn't meet my eye in class when you returned…"

She nodded her head gently. He hurt because of her as well. "I was unkind to you."

"Not unkind," he shook his head, "I don't believe that you meant to hurt me. I think that I broke you."

"I wasn't a porcelain doll, Albus."

"No," he seemed to be struggling for the words, "No you were never a…toy. I…loved you very much. And I was forced to break your heart."

Minerva shrugged. She had thought about it over and over again. There was always going to be an end of the road. "What else was there to do? I was a child. You were a teacher. It had to end."

He stood where he was and turned to look at the sunflowers. He did not look at her, She supposed it was because he was angry at her response, given his carefully spoken retort: "You did not write me back."

Silence.

She willed him to look at her, but he seemed suddenly interested in the yellow petals that surrounded the brown center of the flowers. Standing there helplessly, there was nothing to say but the truth. He would take nothing but it, anyway. He already knew it. "I told you that I wouldn't in your office. I promised myself that I wouldn't get mixed up with you again after it all…" she shrugged, "imploded".

"Ah." He did not turn to look at her.

It wasn't fair. He was managing to make her feel terrible for things that she had no choice but to do. She bore no hatred for him, not for the way that he threw her out of his office after months of attachment. He left her lonely and aimless. But she, she was able to forgive him. "You told me," she said gently as she walked towards him, "that your pride would not allow you to continue loving me. You said," she put her hand on his shoulder, "Albus, you said that you had worked for too long to give up everything that you had worked for. You remember this conversation, don't you?"

She felt him inhale deeply. "Yes."

"I want you to know that I am happy that you are receiving everything you worked for. I am," she swallowed, "proud."

Minerva hoped that her words got to him, that they were filled with the loss that she felt deep down her in her heart. It was a loss, their love for pride. "You aren't the only one guilty of pride," she whispered. "If I had less of it, I may have written back to you. Back when I was still madly in love. But I couldn't. I refused to be weak."

Sometime during her words, the man turned to face her. Face to face, now, not but a person's girth away, they both stared. Had there been violins, they may have both cried. Or if one of them made the funniest joke ever, they'd both be laughing with everything inside of them. But there was silence; not even the insects made sounds. Albus nodded his head gently before looking into her eyes again. "You're not weak. You never were weak. I…in my stupid idiotic pride, thought that when I saw you that last time, you'd come back to me, despite what I had done to you. But you didn't. You disappointed me."

What was she to say to that? The truth, perhaps, no matter how feeble it made her feel. "I assure you, I said everything that I said with the intention of protecting myself."

"Self-preservation," he smiled. A far away look came upon his face, the sort of look that one gets when suddenly and inexplicably stands in the middle of a memory. He blinked out of it. "What was it that caused you to bring your defenses down in the first place?"

The woman shrugged. She couldn't just put something like that into words. It was not just that one moment when she gave way to her desires. It was the millions that preceded it; when they laughed quietly after class; or he read over her shoulder during class while she wrote; maybe, even, she could take into account his blue eyes when they made contact with her own. She whispered her response, "I wanted you."

He gave a bemused laugh. "What on earth does that mean?"

He was mocking her, now. Certainly, he knew what she meant. He had known desire. He had known temptation. They shared at least those moments together. "That I wanted you, Albus. Don't make me explain."

She turned around and began walking down the path. He grabbed her arm before she had time to think and was pulled into a kiss. Not a deep one. It wasn't lustful or passionate. It was soft, almost needy. She breathed as his warm lips swept away from hers. She stared up at him and gently ran her thumb along the side of his face, lingering where his lips were before dropping her hands to her side.

"I still want you," he whispered.

They said everything, his eyes. I'm sorry. I love you. I have been dying without you. I think about you every day. Don't deny me.

She couldn't, even if she wanted to.

Her hand pulled his head close to her own. Their lips met gently at first, for fear that it was a dream—she had dreamt of that moment so many times. They were soft, his lips; barely even touching her own. Then they weren't so light. They became hungry, pushing against hers, surrounding hers, parting hers. Minerva welcomed his warm breath to mingle with her own, intertwining their hot tongues. Her grip grew tighter on the man as he shifted his mouth and body closer. Her fingers clutched his red hair, feeling each strand through the crevice between her ten digits. He pulled her hips to his; her grip became needy, almost lustful. Scarcely willing herself to do it, she let out a satisfied moan.

His mouth released hers as they both took in slow breaths, much too controlled for the heat they were generating. Minerva's mouth shook. "Do you know of some place where we can go?"

His hands absent-mindedly shifted from a flexed and straight position, grasping at her robes. Albus shook his head, "We can't get to Hogwarts without walking."

She nodded her head. "Then we'll go to my flat. Take my hand."

And he did.


	2. Six

**Six**

The heat of the hour still penetrated the room.

She felt glad to have her back rest against the cool door frame facing her bedroom.

Minerva looked through the darkness into the moonlight that touched her bed and crept over the sheets to Albus, who stared back at her with a toothless smile. She didn't know what to say. She had never done something like that before. Usually it was planned, having visitors over, whenever that rare occasion occurred. Normally she would not invite anyone over to her flat unless they had been dating for a certain period of weeks, maybe even months—she had never just taken someone home. Not, of course, that Albus was just anyone.

She smiled back at the man, who she knew was enjoying the sight of her pale skin in the moonlight. Had the light been any brighter, he may have even seen her blush. Minerva walked over to the man and sat next to him.

He sat up in response and scooted her closer to his naked body. She put her head on his shoulder before looking up to him. "I'm not tired,' she whispered.

Albus nodded his head and kissed her on the cheek. He whispered smugly to the woman, "Excitement of the day still coursing through your veins?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Whatever excitement I had pent up has been beaten out of me, a fact which I'm sure could not escape your attention, Albus Dumbledore." She kissed him softly on the lips; he responded in full.

After his head retreated from hers, he ran a finger through her hair, "Why aren't you tired, Min?"

Min. She didn't let people call her that name, except for Albus. It made her feel small, short; it wasn't just a matter of shortening her name, no matter how irrational it was. But not with him. With Albus, it had been affection, plain and simple affection. He didn't use it just because her name took a smidgen too long to say; it was affection. She smiled at its use in the present moment. "You know, you're the only one I allow to call me that."

"And why is that?"

She hated being mushy, coming off as love-struck, but there was no other explanation, for it was the truth. The woman firmly believed in the truth. "Because you're the only one whose lips made it sound…right. If that makes any sense," she blushed. It was silly, she knew it. It was just because his eyes sparkled and seemed so reassuring when he said it. It was affection, she told herself.

He chuckled gently. "I understand. I'm glad that you still allow me to call you it. I don't think that this would feel quite the same if there wasn't some sort of…semblance to what we once were. Back when we both were remarkably daft."

She raised an eyebrow. "Were we?" She knew they were.

"Oh yes," he nodded his head. "So daft, it was impeccable. You know, we should win prizes for the amount of idiocy that befell us."

Minerva laughed out loud and shook her head with incredulity. He was right, but she needed to hear him speak, and perhaps consider how he looked upon the incident which tore her to pieces, once. "What made us daft?"

"We had an affair. Or have you forgotten?" he poked her gently on the stomach.

She jumped off the bed at his touch with a scream and a giggle; damned tickle-spot. "Albus!"

His eyebrows rose. "I forgot you were ticklish."

Her finger pointed obdurately at him. He would do it, he would: "If you dare, I swear that I will turn you into something without arms."

The woman's warning didn't do a thing to the childish smile on his face. He sprung up from the bed and she ran. She ran as fast as she could, hitting the doorframe as she sped out of her bedroom. Lucky for her, she had the advantage of knowing the layout of her flat. She fled down the stairs and rushed to the kitchen. She ducked behind the table and watched him as he ran his way down the stairs with nothing but the moonlight to help him see. The end result being, of course, he could not run, but had to take his time. She smothered her own laughter.

"That was a cheap trick! Where are you Minerva McGonagall! I grabbed my wand. You better be on the alert."

"Cheater!" she yelled, though did not move otherwise.

His figure turned around to face the table, walking very slowly towards her so as to hear any movement she made. "_Lumos_," he whispered. A small light filled the room, traveling slowly towards the kitchen chairs. _"Accio_ chair," he said confidently. The woman fled as the seat she was hiding behind whooshed in the man's direction.

He laughed childishly at her silly attempt to get away; she responded with her own laughter. She ran to the settee and curled into the fetal position. There was no avoiding him if he had his wand. And she could only run for so long. She buried her face in her arms and legs, waiting for the worst. The woman heard the man as he walked slowly in her direction.

"It's not like you to give up," he whispered just to the right of her ear. "Shame on you."

Minerva didn't dare lift up her head as she spoke, but breathed heavily into her knees. She was being hunted down by a wand-equipped Albus Dumbledore while she had no means of defense. There wasn't even anything around to throw at the man. She would have to make a full-out lunge to find anything worth throwing—not that she really wanted to, anyhow. She enjoyed the chase. She spoke into her knees, "You have a wand. I can't win."

Albus breathed heavily over her ear, "That never stopped you before."

"Yes, well," she rolled her eyes, "I no longer enjoy fighting battles that I cannot win."

For some reason, though the words came out quickly, without much thought, they rang through the room and echoed off of the walls, it seemed. It became clear to her—and him in that moment—that she had meant them. She fought for him before, even though it clearly was going nowhere. Minerva wondered whether this second encounter had a place in no-man's land as well.

She looked up at the man, who had made no movement. "I think that's wise of you, Minerva," he smiled as his hands slid onto her arms. "Unfortunately, you can't always choose your battles." He began tickling her on the stomach.

She caved in, laughing and squirming to get away from the man, but he had a strong hold on her. Minerva elbowed and yelled out for help, which of course was not coming. Her breathing had been controlled, not that she had any control left; when she should have been inhaling she was laughing and kicking. She kicked herself right off the settee, falling to the floor and shoving her foot at the man, who promptly grabbed it and began running his fingers along the bottoms of her foot. "Stop," she laughed wildly, "Stop it Albus!"

"What will you give me if I do?" he replied calmly.

"Anything!" she gasped.

The man shrugged and let her foot fall limply on his lamp. She breathed in and out deeply, watching her chest heave up and down. "Albus," she sighed, "that was remarkably unkind of you."

He eased up his shoulders with a smile on his face. "You ran. I pursued. It was a natural reaction."

Minerva looked at the man, aware that the end was not necessarily near. "Where is your wand?"

"Behind the settee," he smiled. "I had no reason for it. Besides that, you'd have broken it in two with that kick you've acquired. I couldn't abide by that."

She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It was a remarkably comfortable position. The woman smiled, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. "What a loss that would have been. I'm glad I didn't. I wouldn't like to be known as the woman that broke the wand of the greatest wizard of our time."

"Ah," he blinked with pride, "you've really no reason to flatter me. Really, Minerva, you've already managed to get into my knickers—how much more can you hope to achieve with me?"

An incredulous laugh escaped her lips. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. "My dear Albus," she pointed at him, "I will have you know that the privilege of going to bed with me isn't offered to just anybody. And what's more, the privilege of going to bed after only a few short hours with me, has no precedent. You are either remarkably crafty or I am remarkably…daft."

He smiled. He really smiled at that. "Me thinks we're both a little bit daft." The man shifted himself from the settee and sat on the floor next to the woman. He wrapped his arm around her. She placed her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. "I have a confession to make," he spoke gently.

Minerva didn't move her head. "Yes?"

"I knew it was you on the balcony. I had seen you walk in at the party."

Her cheeks filled up with warmth. "So that wasn't a chance meeting out there? That line about your evening becoming more fascinating was prepared?

"Perhaps," he hugged her, "but that doesn't make it untrue. An otherwise unpleasant evening turned quite pleasant when I saw you walk in. You know I hadn't talked to you in what, four years?"

"Six," she blinked.

"Six? Six years."

She felt her chest go up and down slowly. She had kept count. Why did she keep count? What a terrible thing to do. "The last time I spoke to you was in your office. I cried all that train ride home."

"I didn't," he shook his head, "I remember it quite clearly. I watched you shut the door and then I started packing my office. It just seemed like the next thing to do," he stopped to think it over. "I was numb. I didn't cry until I picked up that damned locket."

Minerva blinked. She remembered the locket. "I practically threw it at you, didn't I?"

"I wish you would have. It would have made it easier for me, if you had been angry. But of course you were stoical about it. You made up your mind, free from passion and emotion." He paused. "You made up your mind. And you made your point quite clearly when you left it on my desk."

She felt her stomach throw a turn as the numbness spread through her extremities. She wasn't stoical at all. She was live with emotion, both then and now. Minerva didn't like how she made herself seem so removed sometimes. It was a great advantage in moments like the one they had experienced in that she gave nothing away, but she hated how cold she came off. No part of her ever truly felt cold. The woman swallowed, "I couldn't keep it, couldn't wear it at least."

The man breathed in deeply, sighing as he expelled air. "What was I supposed to do with it, Min? I bought it for you and you broke my heart by giving it back. I'm a man. What was I supposed to do, wear it?"

It was quite detectable in his voice, his contempt. No voices were being raised, but the calmness of the talk felt vivid, painful and serious. "You've no reason to get angry. You broke my heart, too. You broke it long before that conversation."

"I had no choice!" He looked at her, eyes blazing.

He resented her. For unwittingly forcing him to make a choice, he resented the woman. If he had never loved her, then there would be no reason for him to have risked his name and profession. He resented her, more than anything, for not fighting. She was strong enough, now, to fight him. "Do you think I had a choice," she pointed at herself. "Do you think I had any say in the matter? You were done with me, you tossed me to the bloody curb and left me to feel my way back to feeling human again! Do you think for one second I would keep that thing?"

"So throw it away, don't give it back."

"Oh please," she shook her head. "I couldn't just throw something like that away. It was beautiful and expensive and I didn't want to see it destroyed. Or forgotten," she added gently. "I couldn't keep it, so you were the next best choice." It was true, sort of. He was the best choice. But she also had meant to hurt him, to make it sting. She succeeded, but it did not make her feel any better now, six years later. "Albus, you wouldn't have wanted to find out that I'd tossed in the lake or given it away. That would have been worse."

The man did not respond for a few seconds. It was clear to Minerva that he was very clearly weighing his options: did he pick a fight or not? That had been an event between them, once, fighting. It was their competitive natures. It didn't escape either of them the talent and power that was—or in Minerva's case—would one day be associated with the other. He chose to avoid the struggle. "I suppose you're right," he finally said. "I still have it, hidden away somewhere in a box."

Minerva was happy at that; so very, very happy. She couldn't bear the idea of it waiting at the bottom of the lake, either. "I'm glad to know that you didn't destroy it."

"Why would I?"

He knew perfectly well why he would do such a thing. The same reason she gave it back to him; it was a painful remnant of their time together. "You made it clear, just now," she whispered, "that it brought you a large amount of pain."

He nodded his head. "But it also brought me a great amount of joy. When I gave it to you, that is. You loved it."

A smile came across her face and attacked her eyes; they stung. He was just as sorry as she was.

Minerva recalled the moment she received the emerald locket. It was for her birthday. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't the most important moment of her life. It was a moment, however, when it was just the two of them, sitting in his office. The stones caught the candle's light first. And she knew why she received it. "I loved you," she whispered.

The man smiled. "I know."

She sighed into his shoulder as he pulled her closer. He was warm, just like she remembered. She was happy there. Nothing was new, in that way. Minerva took in a deep breath, fearing that this evening would end as bittersweet as it began. It wasn't that she didn't feel sleepy, anymore; she wanted to stall. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Starving."

Minerva smiled, "Let's eat something then."


	3. Hogwarts

Chapter Three: Hogwarts

They ate the buttered toast and jam on the balcony, standing upright. Albus cradled his toast in the entirety of his palm when he didn't eat it. Minerva supposed this was to keep the jam from falling on the floor. Of course, if he ate toast like a normal person, he wouldn't have to worry about it, but seeing as how he ate the corners first, dripping was clearly a problem.

The man noticed the smirk on Minerva's lips. He wiped his face with his forearm, but said nothing. It would just be another moment that they shared. It didn't need to be acknowledged.

She turned her gaze towards the street below her, then across the way. None of the flats in the area showed any sign of life. It was well into the evening, though she didn't dare look to see the precise time. It may be but one, or maybe closer to four. Either way, they were alone—a privilege she couldn't remember ever really having with the man.

They hadn't had much at all, she reflected. What had there been? His office. His room. His desk. _They_ had nothing, except perhaps for each other. How that ever happened in the first place, she couldn't understand.

Minerva glanced to her side at the man who was leaning over the balcony. "How did it start, Albus?" She looked at the man, who raised an eyebrow. Minerva inhaled and then exhaled, "How is it that a teacher like you should take up with a student?"

Albus blinked gently, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He put his arms around her hips and ran his fingers over the silk of her robe. He sighed, "I wish I knew."

She shook her head gently, never feeling quite so vulnerable. "I hadn't…been with anyone before you, Albus. I had hardly so much as kissed anyone. Why is it that you, the one age-appropriate man that I couldn't love, were my first?"

"Well, as I recall," he stared reassuringly at her, "I kissed you one night in my office, back when you helped me grade homework. And then I didn't see you for a time outside of class. A very long time. Then we went out somewhere. Hogsmeade, I suppose, with the other students. The next thing I recall is making love to you in my office. I didn't know that you had never…at the time."

The woman saw regret in his eyes at that last bit. No, he wouldn't have known. She kissed him gently on the lips, holding the back of his head in her hand. A soft smile crept over her lips. "You had no way to know," she whispered. "And I really would not have wanted it another way."

"You cried," he raised an eyebrow.

"Because I was scared."

He nodded his head gently. "I was terrified."

"Why did you do it," she pleaded with her eyes, "make that leap? You had all the power in the situation. I was too young, too inexperienced to seduce you, as much as I may have wanted to. You were the one who allowed it. Started it. Why? Did you not see what was ahead of us?"

Albus ran his hand up and down her slim back, feeling every ridge. He did not look her in the eye at first, but rather, thought it over before meeting her gaze. "I didn't care," he whispered. "At first, I didn't care that I had everything to lose. I had everything to gain, Minerva. You were the only thing I wanted."

Her stomach fell, even as she whispered it, "Until you had to make the choice."

"I did it for you," he bobbed his head, as if he was trying to convince himself of something, "I submitted to Armando's request that I end it for you. For you to become whatever it is that you were going to become. So you could be what you are right now: accomplished, beautiful, exceeding beyond even my expectations."

His intentions were good. Even as a teenager, she could see that. But it was so much easier to believe that he wronged her, rather than he did it for her. Emotionally speaking, she would sooner have kept him and left Hogwarts. Realistically speaking, that never was an actual option—she would indeed have lost everything she had worked for. "You never held me back," she shook her head.

"No?" he slid a finger down her cheek. She melted as it reminded her of their first kiss. It had been a hair that he moved behind her ear—such a simple thing to do. But they stood there in emotional limbo, her eyes set on his which bore into her every need and desire. Her hand fell on his, back then, pressing the heat onto her red cheeks. He kissed her very gently as they crossed that line from friends to lovers. And that had been it. They came to their senses and she left. No, indeed she did not come back the next day to help him with his work.

Minerva shook her head. "You pushed me to become better, to want more. And I have it now," she added gently. "I have everything I worked for…and so do you," she swallowed.

He kissed her, a sweet gentle, terrified kiss pent up from years of regret and ignorance. The way that his lips swept across hers let her know everything she ever needed to know. If there was such thing as a love, they shared it. But so what? What were they to do now, now that they had found each other again?

Unintentionally, a tear slid down her face, just one—her lips clenched together in an attempt to stop more from falling. He saw it slide down her face, but made no attempt to stop it. Rather, he embraced her, pulling her close. She inhaled his scent and heaved back the tears. She was so much better than that, not a bumbling, crying idiot. She could control herself, damn it. Her fingers clenched at his back; he cradled her head and kissed her atop the crown. She inhaled deeply, fighting back the emotion she had embedded over the years.

She had cried twice before him in the past. The first time, after they made love for the first time—as she had told him, it was for fear, not regret. The second time she cried was when he ended their relationship. It had been just one tear then as well; she broke down the second she was out of his sight.

Here, standing on her balcony in his arms, she felt the culmination of those two moments—the beginning and the end. Somehow, an aftermath had been fated and it hurt no less.

"It's not worth it," he said bravely as she shook silently in his arms.

No, it hadn't been. It was not that they had not been together, not really—though she would have liked to keep him. The problem was closure. It never existed. She never let herself love anyone else, not like she loved Albus. A part of her was very empty, incomplete because of that. She had given what seemed like everything up for him; not very much of it was returned. Maybe that's why she was not herself tonight. She'd found where she left her love and was grappling with it.

He ran his fingers through her long hair contemplatively before speaking, "Success means nothing without someone to share it with."

"I know," she whispered, knowing that he understood. He did not know her life story or what sort of trials she went through after Hogwarts, but he understood. He had some ordeals himself; he was Albus Dumbledore, after all. "Has it been terrible for you?" she whispered, looking up into his eyes, knowing that her own were puffy and red.

His lips touched the top of her forehead, then her nose and finally her lips. He smiled sadly, "Minerva, you could never know the deep regret that has filled my life. I feel hollow inside. All the glory in the world could not make me wish to do everything the same again. I would change it all. But I cannot. And so I must press on."

She nodded her head. What a beautiful man he was.

"Minerva, I have never asked you to do anything for me. Everything we went through was of our own separate volitions. But I have a request." He paused and looked at the woman who nodded gently. "I want you to come to Hogwarts to teach."

"Teach transfiguration?" she raised an eyebrow, taken aback.

He smiled gently, all the worry leaving his face. It was almost as if it was something had been thinking about for a long time; it wasn't a new thought at all. "Yes. When Armando told me that he was retiring, it occurred to me that I needed to replace myself. And the first person I thought of, believe it or not, was you. I've been following your work for the last six months. I even made some inquiries," he stopped and laughed a little bit, "both professionally and personally speaking. Minerva, I want you to work with me."

Her mouth twitched between the smile that wanted desperately to take over her face and the tight-lipped look of knowing that aided in her credibility. "So tonight was your way of making a business proposition?"

"No," he shook his head with sincerity, "I did not know that tonight, _this_," he whispered while gesturing between the two of them, "was going to happen. How I feel for you has nothing to do with the fact that you deserve to be at Hogwarts."

She blinked, stuck somewhere between the deep love she had for Hogwarts, the flattery she felt with the man, and the unknown future she saw for herself and Albus. "Albus," her voice trembled, "I don't…I don't want to push things, but what does that mean for us, now that this has happened?" It was a sincere question. What did that make them? She could hope for a future all she wanted with the man, but she never deigned to believe that it would happen—and yet, by the same token, there was the capacity, nay probability of failure.

His eyes were serious. "Minerva, I need you to be a part of my life. Tonight confirmed that for me. I have never felt as challenged…happy…lively as I do with you. If you will have me, I will have you. If not, then I will get on somehow…" he looked around for the final words, which came easily once they were found: "But I hope that you will."

It was unbelievable, certainly, what was being propositioned to her. It was too good to hope for, _too much_ to hope for after six years of silence. And yet it was too much to lose. He had succeeded, suddenly, in putting her back into that terrible position she once had held: how much could she risk losing? She ran all the things she could lose through her brain in a millisecond: her job, credibility, home…Albus. But did she even have him? He had her.

"You want me," she whispered gently, "to teach at Hogwarts, leave my research position and my home, and…date you?"

He nodded his head. "Yes. And if it is agreeable to you, I would like to see you outside of Hogwarts during this school year…with any luck, we will know exactly what this is by next September."

Cautious. He was being cautious. Why wouldn't he be? He saw what she saw in the situation. There was a clear potential for failure and ruination of credibility for both of them. A year's worth of interaction, clearly, would benefit the both of them if they were to work together. Certainly, they could work as intellectuals, but when "lovers" was in the equation, things had certainly gone wrong in the past.

"No, I think it would be quite agreeable," she nodded with a dumbstruck smile.

"Good," he grinned, followed by a soft chuckle. The woman joined in as well and they had a gentle, flirtatious laugh together.


End file.
